


Aidful Evening

by charivari



Series: Decepticon Teachers AU [13]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Teachers, Cockblocking, Established Relationship, First Aid's sexay pajamas, Fluff and Angst, Foreplay, Groping, Humanformers, M/M, Medical Conditions, Paperwork, Past Relationship(s), Pharma is a jerk even when he's not around, Sad Ratchet, Stubborn medics, possible PTSD
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-05
Updated: 2015-08-05
Packaged: 2018-04-13 03:15:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4505574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/charivari/pseuds/charivari
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Teachers AU. First Aid has a rather eventful evening.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Setting: Follows after Pharma Drama, ties in Impact. 
> 
> Damn it this is supposed to be a Teachers AU yet I keep focusing on non-Teacher characters *slaps self* but I can't help it. It's Aid. And Springer. And Aid and Springer... and also Ambulon. And Ratchet. 
> 
> Maybe I should call this Teachers/Medics Human AU XD

First Aid was surprised to hear a curse coming from Pharma's now vacant office. He poked his head in and saw Ambulon sitting at Pharma's desk almost hidden by piles of paperwork.

"What are you doing?"

"What does it look like I'm doing?" Ambulon grumbled, "Pharma left without completing his paperwork. That in itself might have been easy enough. But when cross-referencing older files, I found his whole filing system in complete disarray. How he found anything is a mystery."

First Aid wondered if Pharma had intentionally rearranged his files prior to leaving.

It seemed like a petty thing to do.

But then Pharma _was_ petty.

"I now have to reorganize all his patient records," Ambulon complained. "It'll probably take all night."

First Aid usually found Ambulon too overbearing to pity. But looking at the work ahead of him, he did sympathize to a certain degree.

"Do you need some help?" he offered.

"Weren't you on your way out?" Ambulon said.

"Yes, but I can stay back."

It wasn't how First Aid wanted to spend the evening. But it was better than coming in the next day to a sleep-deprived Ambulon in an even fouler mood.

Ambulon accepted his offer with a nod. He indicated the pile First Aid could start on without so much as a thank you.

First Aid knew it wasn't a deliberate oversight. He never thanked Drift for cleaning out his bin, or First Aid for filing his own paperwork correctly. 

Pharma's botched paperwork was something that needed to be done. For the sake of efficiency. The fact First Aid was staying back after his shift was irrelevant.

First Aid still would have liked some acknowledgement. But it was better to get stuck in than wait for Ambulon to change his personality.

They worked for a moment in silence, nothing but the rustle of pages.

Then Ambulon said something unexpected,

"Shouldn't you call your boyfriend? Let him know you'll be home late."

The words took First Aid by surprise. The two never talked about their personal lives. In fact First Aid knew nothing about Ambulon's home life. Literally nothing after two years of working together.

Ambulon had never offered any insight and First Aid hadn't cared enough to pry. All he had ever needed to know was that Ambulon was pedantic and work-orientated.

He hadn't mentioned Springer to him either. Ambulon must have overheard him talking to Ratchet or Drift.

"Springer's away at the moment," he said.

Ambulon's face was concealed the file he was reading.

"On a mission?"

First Aid wondered if this was Ambulon actually attempting small talk.

"I presume so," he said, "He never tells me much. His work is classified."

"Must be hard," Ambulon said.

First Aid wished he could see his expression hidden behind the file.

Still, the subject wasn't one he liked talking about.

"You get used to it," he lied.

Ambulon lowered the file,

"I doubt I could be as understanding as you."

It sounded almost like an insult. First Aid's mouth set in a frown. He was about to voice a retort when Ambulon scratched at his sleeve.

"Is your eczema playing up again?"

Ambulon gave him a sharp look. He was sensitive about his condition. It was the reason he wore long sleeves.

"It's fine," he said shortly.

First Aid didn't press him. Ambulon was an adult. He was capable of looking after himself.

They descended into silence. First Aid figured it was for the best. Slowly the piles began to dwindle in size. The pair's conversation was limited to the task at hand, order of patients and dates. A few times a diagnosis or treatment listed in a file sparked brief discussion. First Aid preferred this type of conversation with Ambulon.

But damn it if his scratching wasn't getting on his nerves.

Finally it became too exasperating.

"Why are you sitting there in discomfort when you know how to treat yourself," he snapped, "For God's sake, you're in the medical profession."

Ambulon's expression was cold.

"It's not your concern First Aid."

"But it's distracting," First Aid protested, "I wouldn't let a patient sit in my office scratching themselves to death and not intervene."

"I'm not one of your patients," Ambulon argued, "If it offends you so much. You're welcome to leave."

First Aid sighed,

"That isn't what I meant. I'm trying to help you."

Ambulon was silent for a moment.

"I need to finish this paperwork," he said finally.

"You're so stubborn," First Aid scowled.

"That seems to be a pre-requisite for working here," Ambulon responded.

It was a statement First Aid couldn't quite argue against. Ratchet was set his ways. Pharma had been blindingly arrogant. Ambulon, well, the current situation spoke for itself.

First Aid didn't like to think he was stubborn. But self-analysis told him the opposite.

He didn’t agree with Ambulon verbally however. He continued with his pile of paperwork. Ambulon still scratched his arm on occasion, more furtively than before. But First Aid refused to let it distract him. As soon as he was done, he could go home.

He didn’t anticipate intervention would come much sooner from another source.

"What are you two doing in here?" a voice made both of them jump.

Ratchet was standing in the doorway.

"Pharma's paperwork.”

Ratchet pinched the bridge of his nose.

"It can wait," he said, "Go home, the pair of you."

It wasn't a request. First Aid complied more swiftly than Ambulon. Pharma’s departure had taken its toll on Ratchet. He hadn’t said anything specifically. But he looked more haggard than usual. He had taken over most of Pharma’s patients, despite First Aid’s offer to split them.

“Ambulon,” Ratchet sighed when the other man refused to budge, “I mean it. I’ll throw you out if I have to.”

Ambulon rose to his feet with a grumble.

First Aid touched Ratchet’s arm.

“You should go home too,” he said.

Ratchet surveyed him with tired eyes.

“I will. Once you two leave and let me lock up.”

First Aid knew that was a lie. He knew that as soon as he and Ambulon left, Ratchet would sit down at Pharma’s desk and finish the job they started.

But if First Aid made mention of this, Ratchet would shrug him off. Like Ambulon had said, stubborn.

Ambulon was still holding his ground,

“I’ll lock up,” he said, “Once I’ve finished here.”

“It will be there in the morning for you,” Ratchet said with a touch more impatience, “Go enjoy your evening.”

“Come on Ambulon,” First Aid chimed in.

This standoff was accomplishing nothing but trying everyone’s patience. First Aid secretly agreed that Ambulon should be the one to stay back. Paperwork was his area. But Ratchet had overall authority over the clinic. So First Aid threw his weight behind him.

Outnumbered, Ambulon grudgingly rose from his chair.

“I have a system in place,” he told Ratchet, “Please don’t touch anything.

“I won’t,” Ratchet said, “Good night you two.”

First Aid echoed the sentiment. Ambulon gave a more clipped ‘Night’. He was still surly as he and First Aid made their way towards the main entrance.

“Don’t be so moody,” First Aid reproached, “We made progress. Like Ratchet said, it’ll be there for you in the morning.”

“No it won’t,” Ambulon stated bluntly.

First Aid didn’t have the energy to contradict this. He knew it was the truth anyway.

They reached the entrance and ‘see you later’ was on the tip of his tongue.

“I’ll walk you to your car,” Ambulon took him by surprise.

It was a kind offer. Not one First Aid had expected him to make. Still, he didn’t like the idea of extending his time in Ambulon’s company.

But it was dark. And this wasn’t the nicest neighborhood. First Aid did carry a fire arm in his satchel. That didn’t mean he wanted to use it. Ambulon escorting him to his car seemed like a safe option.

Not that Ambulon looked that intimidating, even with his current scowl. But a mugger might think twice about taking on two people rather than one.

“Yeah okay,” First Aid answered, “Thanks.”

His car was parked around the corner. It was nothing flash. Given the notoriety of the neighborhood, that worked in its favor. Youths still thought it was amusing to slash his tires on occasion. But for the most part, the car was left alone. First Aid wondered if it was out of some strange sense of respect the locals had for someone who treated them for free.

Whatever the reason the car was in the same state as when he left it. First Aid double-checked the tires and found no trace of punctures.

“All good,” he told Ambulon as he unlocked the front door.

Ambulon said nothing as First Aid climbed inside and started the engine. He was about to bid him farewell when a thought crossed his mind.

“Where’s your car?” he asked.

“I don’t have one,” Ambulon answered, “I’ll call a taxi.”

“At this time of night?” First Aid said incredulously.

Most taxis avoided downtown Rodion at night. Even if Ambulon did persuade one to collect him, he would probably be standing out in the open for at least twenty minutes.

“Hop in,” First Aid found himself saying, “I’ll drop you off.”

Ambulon shook his head,

“I’ll be fine,” he said, much to First Aid’s exasperation.

He fought the urge to drive off and leave Ambulon to his idiocy.

But he would feel terrible afterwards.

“I’ll wait until the taxi gets here.”

“No need,” Ambulon said curtly, “Go home First Aid.”

It was spoken like an order. It was enough for First Aid to lose the last of his sympathy.

“Stubborn,” he grumbled.

Ambulon turned on his heel,

“Night First Aid.”

First Aid told himself that definitely wasn't a small hint of a smile he heard in Ambulon’s voice. He watched the other man trudge away. Scratching his arm as he went.

“Idiot,” First Aid huffed softly.


	2. Chapter 2

First Aid sighed as he unlocked the front door of his apartment. There was something mournful about returning to an empty apartment, especially in the quiet hours of the night.

Though when he thought of Ambulon still huddled on the sidewalk waiting for his cab he knew he was the better off.

And as it turned out his apartment wasn’t empty. First Aid glimpsed Springer’s gear lying in the hallway. His mood soared.

“Springer,” he called.

There was no answer. First Aid ventured into the living room. Springer was curled up on the lounge still wearing his camouflage jacket, fast asleep.

Judging by the empty beer cans on the floor, it seemed like he had been home for a few hours.

First Aid cursed himself for agreeing to help Ambulon. If he’d arrived home sooner, Springer might have been awake.

He had no choice but to let him sleep now. Springer had a tendency to lash out if he was abruptly woken. First Aid had found that out the hard way. Springer had sent him flying across the room. And spent the next six months apologizing.

First Aid hadn’t held a grudge. Considering Springer’s line of work, it was understandable. It even reassured First Aid a little, knowing that if an enemy ever attempted to ambush Springer in his sleep, he could defend himself.

But it did make sleeping arrangements difficult. They slept in separate beds, on the oft chance Springer woke up disorientated and mistook First Aid for someone else in the dark. As much as First Aid reminded himself it was a safety precaution, he sometimes wished they could share the same bed.

Just like he wished he could dive on top of Springer at that moment and wake him with kisses.

Instead he was forced to leave him be. It was probably for the best anyway. Springer likely needed to catch up on sleep.

First Aid reluctantly went about his usual nightly routine. He changed out of his work clothes, fixed himself a snack and returned to the living room. Springer hadn’t stirred. With slight disappointment, First Aid sunk into the adjacent armchair with a medical journal.

Ratchet had recommended it to him. There was an interesting article about cardiac surgery. It helped divert his attention for a while. But he wasn’t so engrossed not to hear the quiet moan that signaled his lover coming out of sleep.

First Aid was crouching at his side in an instant,

“Hey,” he said softly, “Welcome home.”

A smile lit up Springer’s face,

“Good to be home.”

Now he was closer First Aid could see the discoloration marring the right side of Springer’s face. It troubled him. Not so much the bruise itself, which seemed superficial. More the fact Springer might have sustained other injuries.

“You’re hurt,” he said.

“Just a little bruised,” Springer said, “Nothing to fuss over.”

First Aid wasn’t exactly reassured. Springer had a tendency to downplay his injuries. A deep wound with extensive stitching was ‘just a scratch’. First Aid’s mind wouldn’t be at ease until he could pass judgement for himself.

A large hand encircled his smaller one and squeezed,

“Aid, baby, I’m fine.”

First Aid sighed. Springer’s definition of ‘fine’ differed from his own. Springer could have broken ribs and still classify himself as ‘A-Okay’. But in this instance he chose to momentarily trust his assessment and pressed a needy kiss to Springer’s mouth.

He felt Springer pull back,

“I probably taste like beer.”

He did. But First Aid didn’t care. He wasn’t about to wait for Springer to brush his teeth. He covered his face in more kisses.

“I missed you,” he said in the midst of the onslaught.

Springer chuckled. He caught First Aid’s face with his large hands and pressed his own kiss to his forehead.

“I missed you too sweetface.”

Then he flipped First Aid onto his broad chest. The effortlessness of the action reassured the medic. There was no sign of pain or strain that might suggest he was currently suffering from a more severe form of injury. That didn’t stop First Aid from gently probing his ribs for confirmation.

“Can you quit poking me?” Springer said good-humoredly, “I didn’t pull you on top of me for a medical.”

“Force of habit,” First Aid answered.

All the same he ceased probing and rested his head on Springer’s chest. Fingers threaded through his hair and he gave an appreciate sigh.

“Why didn’t you call me?” he scolded Springer gently.

First Aid felt Springer shrug,

“Wanted it to be a surprise,” he said, “Just didn’t figure you’d be home so late.”

“It was a paperwork emergency,” First Aid groaned, “Pharma quit and left his office in a shambles. I’ve mentioned Pharma before, haven't I?”

“I believe so,” Springer continued to stroke his hair, “Arrogant jerk?”

“That’s the one.”

“Why did he quit?”

First Aid huffed,

“To accept a ridiculously overpaid position as head surgeon. I suppose a free clinic in Rodion didn’t give him the attention he craved.”

It was something that always bothered First Aid. Pharma’s attitude. He acted like the free clinic was a chore, work he undertook with the air of a martyr. First Aid wondered why he had even signed up in the first place.

The only answer he could come up with was a sense of loyalty to Ratchet. 

But even that hadn’t prevented Pharma jumping ship at the first lucrative opportunity.

“Well it sounds like you’re better off without him,” Springer said.

First Aid nodded,

“I’m still stuck with Ambulon. But he’s not so bad I guess.”

“Not so bad?” Springer said bemusedly, “Should I be jealous?”

“God no,” First Aid said, “I would never. Not Ambulon.”

“I know,” Springer smiled, “I was only teasing.”

His hand slipped down First Aid’s back to cup his buttocks. First Aid’s stomach gave a pleasant lurch. He let out a small moan and ground back into Springer’s palm.

Springer loosed a groan of his own,  

“You’re so sexy Aid.”

First Aid flushed,

“What, in my pajamas?” he joked self-consciously.

They were red with white stripes. Hardly the stuff of sexual fantasy. At least First Aid thought. Springer appeared to disagree.

“Especially in your pajamas.”

He heaved them into an upright position, First Aid settling on his lap.

“That’s better,” he murmured in First Aid’s ear.

His hand was still clasping the medic’s backside, anchoring him in place while his free hand slipped between his legs, palming him through the fabric. First Aid made a noise of discontent and urgency. It had been too long. He wanted skin on skin, nothing in between.

Springer seemed to understand. His hand lifted to the waistband of First Aid’s pajama bottoms.

“This what you want?” his fingers teased around the waistband.

First Aid nodded, nuzzling his face against Springer’s cheek.

“You’re so adorable,” the affection in Springer’s voice made First Aid’s heartbeat quicken, “Can’t say no.”

But Springer’s fingers had barely breeched past the waistband when an intrusive sound made him pause.

A drum solo. First Aid recognized it as Springer’s ringtone.

_“Pretty girl, wreckin' bar, ra ra ra ra yeah you are…”_

First Aid cursed the caller.

He pressed a desperate kiss to Springer’s mouth,

“Don’t answer it.”

He rocked in his lap for emphasis.

“It might be…” Springer’s words were muffled by First Aid’s kisses, “Important.”

First Aid felt Springer’s hand start to shift. He let out a whine of protest.

“Wait, my hands are free,” he delved into Springer’s jacket pocket for his cell.

He tore his mouth from Springer’s to glance at the caller id.

“It’s Kup,” he told Springer, “You should take it.”

Kup was Springer’s oldest friend and mentor. First Aid knew Springer would feel horrible if he missed his call.

Springer gave First Aid an apologetic look as he took the cell.

"Hey old timer," he greeted Kup with his usual endearment, “You, uh, kinda caught me at a bad time…”

Kup said something on the other end. First Aid wished the call was on loud speaker because whatever he said caused Springer to tense.

"What?” he exclaimed, “You’re kidding me right?”

Springer gave him a questioning look. Springer didn’t appear to notice. His expression was severe as he listened to Kup.

After a moment he sighed,

“I'll be on the lookout but I don't think... Yeah I'll be careful... Okay... I'll tell Aid you said hello. Bye."

“What was that about?” First Aid asked.

He had never seen Springer look this pale before. He was running a hand distractedly through his hair.

“Uh,” he seemed uncertain how to answer, “A guy I used to serve with. He was in a mental institution. Now he’s out apparently.”

“And that’s a bad thing?”

Springer exhaled deeply,

“Things didn’t really end well between us. I… I was the one who got him committed. For his own good. What he did… I don’t want to go into it, but he needed help.”

First Aid pressed his hand to Springer’s arm.

"Would he come looking for you?"

Springer was staring off into space. He didn’t answer.

“Springer?”

The insistence in his voice jolted Springer back to reality.

“I don’t know. Probably not. If he knows what’s good for him. He couldn’t find us anyway.”

Springer was pensive for a moment. Then he turned to First Aid and smiled. First Aid knew it was forced. He had seen enough of Springer’s genuine smiles to tell the difference. But he said nothing as Springer cupped his cheek,

“Don’t worry,” he spoke with more certainty, “Everything’s okay.”

First Aid wished he could blindly accept that. But he couldn’t. Not after Springer’s earlier reaction. An old memory resurfaced in his mind.   

“Impactor,” he said.

Springer’s look of horror spoke volumes.

“How did you…”

“I can’t remember the exact date,” First Aid began softly, “But I got up for water at night and I heard you talking in your sleep. You were saying Impactor.”

First Aid hadn’t dared wake him. Not after the incident that had caused them to sleep separately. But he remembered the next morning, Springer sitting at the table, staring into his coffee with a haunted look in his eyes.

The same look he had in his eyes right now.

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“If it was important I thought you would tell me.”

But he never had. Not until now. Springer looked ashamed.    

“Fuck,” he cursed, “I’m sorry Aid. I didn't mean to keep things from you. I just... I wanted to put it behind me.”

“Maybe talking would make that easier,” First Aid suggested, “Instead of keeping it bottled in.”

Springer sighed,

“Maybe.”

He didn’t look very certain. First Aid hesitated before asking a question.

“Were you… together?”

Springer flinched. But after a moment he answered.

“Not really… We… We were friends. Sometimes we fucked. I’d call it friends with benefits but that seems… I don’t know, trivial.”

“Did you love him?”

“No,” Springer said rather quickly, “I was in awe of him. I wanted to be him. He liked that. He liked having someone who believed his bullshit. But then I saw what he really was.”

“What was that?”

“A killer,” Springer said with disgust, “I know that sounds hypocritical coming from me. Considering what I do for a living. But there’s a difference between killing a guy who’s trying to kill you, a guy with a gun in his hand versus a guy who’s surrendered. A guy who’s unarmed, cowering on his knees, completely at your mercy. It’s different when you see the fear in their eyes and decide you're gonna play judge, jury and executioner."

First Aid shivered.

“Springer I… I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.”

Springer cupped his cheek,

“Don’t apologize,” he told him, “You were trying to help. To understand. You’re a good person Aid. Too good for someone as fucked up as me.”

“Don’t say that,” First Aid protested, “There’s nothing wrong with you.”

“Aid, you can’t even sleep beside me for fear I’ll throttle you,” Springer pointed out, “I go away for months at a time and I can’t tell you where, or what I’m doing. What kind of relationship is that?”

“It’s _our_ relationship,” First Aid said, “I don’t care if it’s not perfect. I love you.”

He pressed kisses to Springer’s broad handsome face.

“I love you. I love you. I love you.”

He was relieved when strong arms wrapped around him and pulled him to their owner’s chest. And those words were whispered back gratefully.

“I love you too.”

First Aid was under no illusion that life was sunshine and roses. He had experienced enough at the clinic to know that life was often harsh and unfair.

Perfection didn’t exist. But love, that was real and tangible and he clung to it.

He clung to Springer.

And hoped Impactor wouldn't come looking for him.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Springer's ringtone is The Vaccines - Wreckin' Bar. He heard the word "Wreckin'" and decided he liked it a lot. So lyrics are (c) The Vaccines.


End file.
